Keep Calm and Mind the Gap - Getting Around in London

The most important advice I can give to anyone visiting London is: Wear comfortable shoes.

The second piece of advice I would offer is this: If you’re staying within Greater London, don’t even think of renting a car.  First of all, there’s the issue of learning to drive on the left hand side of the road, to say nothing of differing signage and road markings.  Second, London is among the most congested cities in terms of traffic – to the extent that transport authorities have wisely instituted a congestion charge of £11.50 for private vehicles operating within central London between 7:00am and 6:00pm on weekdays.  The result of this is one sees relatively few private vehicles operating within central London during these hours – the majority of traffic is double-decker buses, London’s characteristic Taxis, and service vehicles including police cars, ambulances, and trash/recycling trucks.  (The few private vehicles seen during this time are invariably Mercedes, BMW, and other luxury cars.)

So, how to get around in London?  The best way is to purchase a Transport for London Oyster Card after reclaiming your baggage at the airport.  One can purchase an Oyster Card for seven days unlimited travel in Zones 1 & 2, and top-up with additional funds for more extended travel – all for less than the cost of a single taxi ride from the airport to Central London.  You simply tap the Oyster Card on the card reader when you enter a tube station, and tap out at the exiting station.  It’s that simple.  One can use the Oyster Card on the Underground, the famed Double-Decker buses, some Ferry services, and Light Rail.  We made use of all of these except, sadly, the buses.  We just never got around to taking one, as they were not as easy to manage in terms of learning the routes.  But I suspect the buses will still be running the next time we visit London.

The London Underground (52% of which is actually above ground) was our primary means of transport while in London.  The “Tube”, as it’s best known in London, is an engineering marvel, with some 250 miles of track.  The oldest subway system in the world, the first part of the Tube opened in 1863 – when Abraham Lincoln was President.  It has grown into a vast network, part of a larger public transport network that includes the other options mentioned above.  (Tube stations were even used as air raid shelters during The Blitz.)  Consider that London has been populated for some 2,000 years, grown in fits and starts, endured plagues, burned down, been bombed from the air – a continual process of development, tear-down, and redevelopment.  All through this period, modes of transportation were being devised, implemented, revised, and discarded.  It’s amazing people can get anywhere with convenience and relative efficiency, given the organic nature of London’s growth.

We ventured beyond Central London twice, both times using alternate transportation.  The first time was to Bletchley Park, some 50 miles north, where we took the National Rail from Euston station.  The ride was smooth enough that we dozed off on our way back into London.  The second time was to Greenwich, a borough southeast of London, to see the Cutty Sark and Royal Observatory.  Although the tube does go there, we decided to make use of the ferry out of convenience and to get a better view of London from the Thames.  The boats operated on time and featured well designed interiors, including a coffee/snack concession, and comfortable seating.  I will blog more extensively about our trips to Bletchley and Greenwich in a future post.

As someone who spent nine years in Boston and made extensive use of that area’s excellent public transport, I am not easily impressed.  But London decisively put Boston in its place.  The convenience, orderliness, and cleanliness of London’s public transport are unsurpassed.  As you approach each station, a pleasant recorded voice tells you which station you’re approaching, which transfer lines are available at that station, and reminds you to “mind the gap between the train and the platform.”  If the next station ahead is closed or in limited service, that information is also included.  The volume is modulated to be clearly audible, yet not harsh or overwhelming.

Even New York, which has been trying to build a particular subway branch for 90 years, is left in the dust - to say nothing of the very limited public transport options offered in my hometown of Cleveland.  Of course, to compare Greater London - with nine million residents, to Greater Cleveland - with under two million for Cuyahoga County, would be like comparing coconuts to grapes.  It would be impractical for Cleveland to attempt the comprehensive public transport system that London has.  But we can do better than our present, inefficiently run bus and rail lines.

Back to my first bit of advice about comfortable shoes: Londoners walk, and they have the rules of foot based commuting down to a fine art. When on an escalator, stand on the right, pass on the left.  Do not enter a rail carriage until people have exited.  Never cut in line.  Those who violate these courtesies risk an angry glare, along with possible verbal reprimand and public embarrassment.  Partly as a result of their extensive walking, there are relatively few overweight residents.  Most Londoners look astonishingly fit, and the men – unlike in much of the US – wear relatively form-fitting trousers.  As a somewhat overweight person, I blend in here in the US, but in London I stood out like a sore thumb.  You can also tell the tourists from the natives – the natives look directly ahead and walk briskly to their destination, while the tourists gawk – and there’s plenty to gawk at in London.

Enjoy your time in London.  Remember to always keep calm and Mind the Gap.

My next post will cover our trip to Bletchley Park.  Those of you who’ve seen The Imitation Game will find much that’s familiar.

A Tale of Two Airlines - and Four Airports

As previously mentioned, Dan & I recently travelled to London.  It was the realization of a dream I’ve had since I was seven years old, when I first became interested in all things British.  Beyond the obvious benefits of R&R, travel can be an opportunity to expand your horizons, challenge your perceptions, and question your beliefs.  This trip afforded me numerous opportunities for that, starting with getting to our destination.

When we arrived at Cleveland Hopkins Airport, it was as we’ve expected since last year, when United Airlines announced they were eliminating their Cleveland hub: quiet.  There was no one waiting in line as we checked in with the very nice attendant from American Airlines, and only three people ahead of us as we made our way through security.  It was shortly after arrival at our gate that I had a panic attack as I suddenly couldn’t recall if I’d locked the door to our home.  Fortunately, I was able to log onto Hopkins’ free Wi-Fi and contact a friend via facebook, who was able to go to our house and confirm the door was properly locked.  As we waited to board the plane, there was little foot traffic to be seen, and I mused to Daniel that, more than ever, I believed that Cleveland should close Burke Lakefront Airport and divert the traffic to Hopkins – freeing Burke’s valuable property for redevelopment.  Eventually we boarded the Embraer RJ145 for a quick, bumpy flight to John F. Kennedy International Airport in New York.

As we made our way between terminals at JFK, looked over the paltry selection at the food court, and discovered that the airport charged for Wi-Fi, I couldn’t help the thought that the former President would spin in his grave knowing such a mediocre airport was named after him – a man who advocated for technological progress at every chance.  I also thought of my mother as I gazed out the airport windows toward the borough of Queens, where she spent her first 15 years.  How I wish she’d lived to witness me travelling to the land of our ancestors, with the man I love.  The four hour layover seemed to stretch into eternity as we waited to board the British Airways Boeing 747 for our flight to London Heathrow Airport.  And that’s where our perceptions were really challenged.

The BA plane was laid out like your typical jumbo jet: first class at the front, economy toward the rear – with a central row of four seats bordered by two aisles, which in turn were bordered by the outer seats.  Even though we were just a few rows from the back of the fully sold out plane, the seats seemed larger than those we’ve encountered on American carriers.  Waiting for each of us on our seats were a blanket, pillow, and a small plastic bag with headphones, toothbrush and toothpaste.  After the usual instructions from the smartly attired (with ladies’ hair pulled back, men cleanly groomed and wearing ties) flight attendants, taxi, and takeoff – we were treated to a choice of complementary wine, beer or mixed drinks.  About an hour later, as we were enjoying the in-flight entertainment (I watched Paddington, mostly for the London sights), we were brought a hot meal – which consisted of choice of chicken or vegetarian dish, dinner roll, small salad, and dessert, along with another beverage.  I’ve been travelling via plane since 1979, and I well remember when this kind of service was standard on American carriers.  But those of a younger generation will have only experienced the way things are today – with passengers crammed in and treated like cattle.  I cannot help the thought that this is largely due to the viscious cycle of deregulation and mergers, resulting in a race to the bottom as carriers chase the lowest price point. 

As we approached Heathrow, our flight attendant handed out cards for us to complete and give to their Border Control officers, codifying where we would be staying while in London and when we expected to leave.  Heathrow is easily the largest airport I’ve ever seen, but orderly enough that we were able to make our way to Border Control and were welcomed to the UK by a very pleasant yet professional officer.  There was never any sense of tension despite the recent terrorist attacks in France.  Security was present but not obtrusive.  

From there, we retrieved our baggage and then followed the signs to the Heathrow Terminal 5 Underground Station.  Dan had done his research and recommended we each purchase an Oyster Card with seven days unlimited use for Zones 1 and 2, with an additional £20 for further trips.  We were soon on the Piccadilly Line which had us within a few blocks of our hotel in under an hour.  (I will blog about London’s rail transportation in an upcoming post).  The whole process from disembarking the plane to hotel arrival took less than two hours.

Nine days later, we reversed the process and headed back to Heathrow Terminal 5a via the Piccadilly Line.  As we checked-in, the very pleasant BA officer presented us with United States customs forms to complete before our arrival in Chicago.  We hadn’t purchased anything beyond the usual touristy stuff – clothing, refrigerator magnets, tour books, and three tins of tea – so completing the forms was a snap.  From there, we proceeded through the most orderly security screening line I’ve ever seen into the departure terminal.  Dan & I had a few hours to kill, but with all the money we’d spent on our trip, we avoided the duty-free shops and made use of Heathrow’s free but rather sluggish Wi-Fi while we waited to board our plane.  The flight to Chicago was on a Boeing 777, which is more up to date than the 747 we took from New York.  Unlike our initial flight, the return trip was less than half sold.  Again, we were offered a free alcoholic drink (I chose white wine), hot meal, further beverages, and a sandwich toward the end of the flight.  I was too keyed up to sleep, so I watched Lucy, Fury, and the final episode of True Blood before our arrival.

·         After Heathrow, disembarking the plane and entering Chicago’s O’Hare airport was like leaving Starfleet Headquarters and finding oneself at a stagecoach depot.  Signage leading to Border Control was virtually non-existent, with airport officers merely shouting “THIS WAY to Border Control, keep moving people!”  The Border Control officers looked like retirees who’d rather be anywhere other than their jobs.  We then retrieved our baggage, went through customs control, handed over our forms, and we’re asked if were bringing any food into the country – I didn’t witness anyone’s baggage being searched.  Despite the presence of bag sniffing dogs (Beagles), I couldn’t help the thought that someone could easily sneak contraband, or worse, into the country.  Dan & I then rechecked our baggage and headed to another terminal for the final leg of our flight.  The trip through security was a sad contrast to what we witnessed in London – confusingly laid out, with people cutting in line and TSA officers seemingly uninterested in maintaining order.  The wait at O’Hare’s Terminal 3, with free Wi-Fi limited to 20 minutes and heavily throttled, was interminable.  As we boarded the Embraer RJ170-195 for the bumpy ride home (including a landing where it seemed we skidded on the snowy runway), I felt utterly spent – shorn of patience and disappointed in my home country.

I love America.  I really do.  We Americans have been brought up to believe we’re the greatest country in the world.  But beyond the money we spend on our military and the percentage of our own people who are incarcerated, I seriously doubt we’re number one in much else.  What must foreigners think when they enter our country for the first time, and see out-of-date, unwelcoming airports such as JFK and O’Hare? 

An American in London

Dan and I just returned from a vacation in England, most of which was spent in London. I will blog about our experiences in the coming days.

Sviatoslav Richter - Complete RCA & Columbia recordings

Sony has reissued their complete Sviatoslav Richter holdings in time for his 100th anniversary- including some live recordings that have been hard to find for decades. Despite my very mixed feelings about Richter, I found these recordings almost universally convincing. Click here to read my review.

East v. West

I am a Clevelander. True, I don’t live in the city – I live in South Euclid, a suburb which borders the city. But when an out of town acquaintance asks where I’m from or where I live, I unhesitatingly answer “Cleveland”, adding “Ohio” if the acquaintance is from a far off land. For Americans, Cleveland instantly brings to mind several images – not all of them pleasant: a burning river, default, mediocre sports teams; America’s greatest orchestra, world class museums, an award winning park system. More recent images include the Gay Games, the return of LeBron James, and the upcoming Republican National Convention.

Back to that river, which hasn’t burned in quite some time, and is increasingly used for rowing and other recreation. The Cuyahoga River is the dividing line between Cleveland’s East and West sides. I recall a conversation with a former co-worker who referred to Valley View as being on the East Side – adding haughtily “I never go east of I-77.” I’d always thought of Valley View as being more central than either East or West, since the river runs through it.

It has been said that the Cuyahoga River is where the East meets the Midwest. I’m not sure how accurate that is, as I’ve detected plenty of Midwestern attitudes in places further east than the East Side, and I’ve witnessed plenty of Eastern elitism west of the river. I remember once mentioning to my grandmother (who was born in Canada, once lived in New York City, managed Fred Astaire Dance Studios from Grand Rapids to Columbus – yet never travelled west of Texas) that I was going to meet up with some friends in Lakewood. Her response was “What? You’re going all the way to the West Side?” as if it was Timbuktu.

Truth be told, I’ve never bought into the whole East Side versus West Side thing. Perhaps it’s because I’ve lived as far east as Haverhill, Massachusetts; as far west as Half Moon Bay, California; and as far south as Cape Coral, Florida. I’ve also lived on Cleveland’s West side – and bluntly I currently live in South Euclid out of convenience – both in terms of work commute and leisure activities. My commute to work is half the national average. I’m only 4.5 miles from Severance Hall, and from there it’s not much further to downtown Cleveland.

The stereotypical view of the East side is of a few prosperous oases among a desert of ghettos, populated by “others”: blacks, Jews, liberals. The stereotypical view of the West side is of a few colorful areas among a desert of whiteness, populated by the uncultured who would only visit a museum or Severance Hall under duress. The West side is seen as more conservative, although they tolerate “the gays” in Tremont and Lakewood. The West side is also easier to navigate - not merely in perception, but a matter of geography as the areas west of the river are generally flatter, with grid pattern roads; while the east side is of necessity more curvy due to the hillier terrain (Murray Hill is actually one of the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains).

To a large degree, these stereotypes are based on decades old perceptions – to the extent that they were ever accurate. First of all, the notion that the West side is “white” and the East side “black” is out of date. Today, the west side of Cleveland and her suburbs are home to many people of Hispanic/Latino, African, Asian, and Middle Eastern origin. And there are plenty of Caucasians living on the east side, including me. My spouse is Latino, and of course also lives on the east side.

The East/West divide, which often goes beyond mere friendly rivalry to mutual contempt, is ultimately self-defeating. It merely paints Clevelanders (and make no mistake, when I speak of Clevelanders I include those who live beyond the city’s boundaries) as petty and deserving of the “hick-town” image which is too often foisted upon us. That mentality is part of what has prevented Cleveland from finally pulling itself up from the muck of default and decline, and achieving truly great things – which would go far beyond the revitalization of downtown and a few trendy neighborhoods.

It’s time to put these stereotypes in the ash bin of history. No east, west or south: I am a proud Clevelander. I grew up here, fell in love here, bought a home here, and will probably die here.

Mozart in the Jungle

I suppose it was inevitable that I would watch Mozart in the Jungle, given that it's about Classical musicians and is streaming free to Amazon Prime Members. Click here to read my review

Charles Rosen's Epic & Columbia recordings

Sony has reissued pianist Charles Rosen's complete Epic and Columbia Masterworks recordings. Rosen, who was a pupil of Moritz Rosenthal, attended Princeton at the same time as my teacher. Click here to read my review.